Thursday, September 9, 2021

Reminders

 

i stress with things mundane as losing keys

please remind me to forgive myself more

when i am forgetful and on my knees

tell me to stand up & open the door

i bang my head trying to be calm, cool 

please remind me I am a groovy bee

when i stray from straight lines and rigid rules

and fall on slimy steps under the tree

tell me to hold myself gently,(&) sip tea






Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.  Novelinee consisting of a nine-line stanza in iambic pentameter (or several) in iambic pentameter with rhyme scheme a,b,a,b,c,d,c,d,d.

Tuesday, September 7, 2021

Moonrise

 

I walk towards the lapping waves, calling the night my muse  


I swallow the moonlight & taste the effervescene of the pink plumerias;

hush now, you


are rippling limbs & shadowed eyes, suttered in mystery


Yet, stilled in blue, the words quiver in my throat


What was I about to say & do, my love?  


I hesitate & let the unspoken be,  jousting with the wind.  My arms droop at my sides, falling petals, instead of casting spells & weaving stardust


The electricity of the unknown died, and I let the safe harbors of the crowd 

embraced me.  Plugged me to the drone of bright city lights.   


Looking back now, I have left my coat on rocky shores, marked with hues 

and shades of fushcia sin; 


each one a reminder of the kind of person I would have been*.  The wildness 

never called me again.


* Original line:  " I have left my signatures on rocky shores, marked with hues and shades of fushcia sin; each one a reminder of the kind of person I have been."  Of the waters and wild by Sanaa Rizvi


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Dundgeons and Derivatives, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Monday, September 6, 2021

Autumn's afternoon

sky is stirring a broth

of thunderclaps

& cumulonimbus clouds


mellowing the street lights 

with muddy shade

of autumn


ground is mulched

with dead 

annuals & grooved twigs

too deep to smooth over


with yesterday's sun-

shine songs

instead we tally


each falling

                    <leaf>



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson.    This is a 44 word post with the given word, GROOVE.   Join us when the pub doors at 3pm EST.  

Thursday, September 2, 2021

September

 

a quiet settles

on parks, playgrounds &

wheat field


where do we purchase

to prolong this summer light

& savor the glorious coat of green


we count the wild sun-

flowers & goldenrods yellowing the trail

& wild teasels, with their empty

seed heads, bowing to the cool wind


we fold sorrows 

in deep pockets

as old letters fade

delicate as amber veins

on a fallen maple leaf


the hours go on, un-

shaken by mortal breath,

under the bridge, the river flows un-

tallowed by our thoughts 




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   Thank you for your visits and comments.

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

fractional puzzling reflection

 

we are light and darkness

expending energy - inhale, exhale -


dreaming of stardust, cottonweeds, gardens,

oak trees that touch the sky, but what of the


nadir of our ills, sufferings, wars;  what do we 

own and know of ourselves & others & where to start?

tinged with fatigue, i jot a (maybe) list:   


keel to the waves, kneel in silence of the ruins,  

nurture my sadness, plant my flag of surrender, as no

one has all the answers to our questions, 100% of the time:

we do not know (& that is alright) 


to ask the question

first than seeking the perfect answer, i claim amnesia

when i rise in the morning from my bed,

pondering the world:  nothing is simple as abracadabra !



For Dverse Poets Pub:  Poetics:  For the Love of Puzzles by Lillian.   This is also an Acrostic Plus.   Please check my hidden message.

Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

Thursday, August 12, 2021

late summer

 

meet me under the apple trees

bulging with greening fruits & berries bold

as afternoon sun rusts the skylight 

as the maple leaves amber gold


i breathe in - scents of late summer roses,

fading mint leaves, seedheads fluffy & white

as the maple leaves amber gold

as afternoon sun rusts the skylight


clock chimes into early autumn

i watch shadows lengthen & fold

as afternoon sun rusts the skylight 

as the maple leaves amber gold


let's ramble the road with daisies

and swap stories as birds on flight 

as the maple leaves amber gold

as afternoon sun rusts the skylight



Maple Leaves 


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form:   Mirrorred Refrain.    
The poem is formed by three or more quatrains where two lines within the quatrain are the "mirrored refrain" or alternating refrain.   The rhyme scheme is as follows: xaBA, xbAB, xaBA, xbAB, etc..x represents the only lines that do not rhyme within the poem. A and B represent the refrain.

Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for the comments and visits.


Thursday, August 5, 2021

bones from the sunken ship

 


lay me down

on craggy rocks, where cedar and pine trees 

veil the blue sky


let my bones be salted

by seagulls & shrunken dried by sun & clouds 


i will float

not a lost map

nor a ghost from 18th century sunken ship


but to the vibrancy 

of turquoise waves &

woodpecker's incessant tapping 

on pine tree





Big Tub Harbour, Tobermory


Posted for dVerse Poets, OpenLinkNight, hosted by Mish.   I just came back from my vacation in Tobermory, Ontario and some of the lines are taken from my time there.  Thanks for the comments and visits.

Thursday, July 29, 2021

{what he said}

 

meet me here - where wild teasels grow

& common daisies preen, queen's glow

where wild flowers tarry & slow

blazing king's row, blazing king's row


you glide in, butterfly bright coat

i am bare as half moon, my throat

a bait & you took all - you stoat!

left me in moat, left me in moat



Butterfly at wild teasel
Grace@Everydayamazing


Posted for dVerse poets pub - Poetry Form, MonoTetra, which was developed by Michael Walker.  Had a fun time writing this one.  Thank you for your visits and comments.


Tuesday, July 20, 2021

the muse & i

 


smelling of dark violets, messy hair leans over my shoulder

hand-knotting threads, tumbling unkempt, wayward as she

whose red lips startles me, whose eyes look eerily familiar, i

wait for her to drawl or holler at me her moon-kept secrets

but she is silent, leaves me empty pages & pink crumbs of doubts 

come dawn, she nudges me, to walk outside & breathe in the rain, i

do, inhaling tendril of knotweeds, lace puff of wild carrots, seeds

of myself



Wild Carrot & Grape Leaves
@EverydayAmazing


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Who's Your Muse by host Ingrid of Experiements in Fiction.   My own personal muse(s) have been changing over time but I guess it is part of my journey.   Thank you for your visits.

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Be(coming)

 

this room is a river

of your imagination

make it sing tall as a cathedral

make it boom as loud as firecrackers

make your fingers blue with music

be the refrain of the song

better yet, be the song

be the book's prologue 

be the story

be the poem

be the kite of children's watercolor wishes

be the candlelight

be the softball of change

be the mustard seed of charity

be the flower of forgiveness

be the garden of butterflies & fireflies

be the forest of lost & wandering things

be the dandelion among the sunflowers

be the thunderbolt of storms

be the raindrop on empty fishpond

be the curious fish

be the green in the blue lake

be the womb of dying stars

be the hands who prepares the bread

be the spice whistling in the pot

be the wine of your fruit harvest

be the black bold ink on canvas

becoming you

can be the ripple, step, fold, click, wrinkle

or it can be boundless leaps to the sea edge

of your imagination

be



Peony@EveryAmazing


Well I can go on forever.   If you want to add a line or two in the comments, feel free to do so.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Meet the Bar with Chant Poetry hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.   Thanks for your comments.

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

no benches in this garden

 

her face is a red

   bee(t)

her eyes are sky-

   lights


holding summer

with her hands -


reds, violets, pinks & yellow sun-

   flowers

common & breezy, plucked 

   from the garden


not peonies-caped in neat rows

not blue ivy tended by gloved gardeners

nor rose-potted in wooden plant boxes


but from open field

along walking & biking trails

\\where seeds, grape leaves & herbs spring

escaping from botanical gardens//

i


bade her a {goodmorning} smile


drink in

her calmness

her happy strides

her weighlessness of cares


& walk towards

where she came from


there's plenty still

    to gather the wheatgrass & knot

wildflowers draping the field

    with worts, weeds & bugs


perfusing perfume:

    sunshine from birdsongs 

    & musk perfectly mulched from wasps

a harvest by creekside, until the sun 

    sweats

                gold on 

                             my arms






Posted for the dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Garden(ing) with Claudia Schoenfeld as our special host in celebration of the 10th  year anniversary of dVerse!  Come join us for a gardening treat at 3pm EST.  

Monday, July 12, 2021

mood on a hiking trail


huge mushrooms

unsettle me

as caterpillars hanging

from maple trees



wooden path opens

and I

<back pocket> map



ring, metallic click

from somewhere afar

wafts, soft rock from

jukebox 



my mind turn/s/table  

steps turn brisk, nimble

as sparrows, I shimmy

to ballads 


                
                                                       Happy 10th Anniversary!


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille with Brian Miller as our special guest host as part of our 10th year anniversary celebration.  Quadrille is a 44 word post with a given word - JUKE.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thank you for your comments and visits.

Thursday, June 24, 2021

Under the spell of the Pink Moon

 

Pink moon, rising above the Great Lake

Blue our sun-freckled faces with waves

Soft as lavender, we are star lights


Pink moon, rising above the Great Lake

Draw care & patience on our hands

We are red-berried by nectar & bees


Pink moon above the Great Lake

Lavish our words with joyful birdsongs

We are wildflowers, lush & lusty



*Great Lake - refers to our Ontario Lake.   We visit the lakeshore every weekend.


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight LIVE, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Please join us starting at 3pm EST.  The dVerse communicty will be on a 2 week summer break.  See you on July 12, 2021 for a special anniversary celebration!!!

Tuesday, June 22, 2021

summer

 

it is summer and i count back-

wards


the wintry clouds 

a midnight blanket

i fluff & huff

darkness to fold away 

shadows to box up


this rain is spring 

in my measuring cup 

i salt the soil with seeds

lightness to drink from

brightness to smudge with


this sun is mad ball

of fire

wrinking my skin to red

clay, muddy brown & yellowing 

leaves


i marvel the sky

an umbrella of majestic russet shades


this sun wrapped hours, i savor

while drinking cool water

this summer is a jar 

bathed in wilted lemon

                                  flowers

i count back-

wards                                    

                                                        


Inspired by Ernest Hemingway's quote:  It is very hard to write this way, beginning things backward…

–The Torrents of Spring (1926)                                         


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - One True Sentence, hosted by Lisa Fox.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

Thursday, June 17, 2021

flights of fancy


imagine this  - your body lifting fancy free

to fields, as if you are seeder of words 

to sky, as if you are gatherer of cottonweeds

to sea, as if you are fisher of night stars


to fields, as if you are seeder of words

knuckled & knotted, you lay them on canvas

wielding ink & pen, you blade them to exotic fruits


to sky, as if you are gatherer of cottonweeds

tying a bouqet of wildflowers & sunflowers

you find your footing, right here, drawing ships


to sea, as if you are fisher of night stars

floating in the primal scream of your longing, you

fly on stilettos!  you bead starlight all the way to the moon!


                                                              by Catrin Welz-Stein

   

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Trimeric form which was invented by Dr. Charles Stone.   Please join us when the pub door opens at 3pm EST.

Monday, June 14, 2021

Briefly, flowers

 

smudge me with your 

                                  light

truffled pink

whorled alabaster 


i am newborn

as unrhymed 

                                  word


press upon me

courage of mustard seeds

tenacity of  greens

hope of pods & pear 

                                 trees


dappled in fading 

honeysuckle,

to cradle divinity

       blossoming

in

split-seconds

       falling

                  fallen

                                stars



Peony from my garden


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by Mish.   Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.


Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Risk of burning the moon


here is paint box

where my shadows lurk 

shaped of black candles & stiff

broken wings

i put on the gloves of


anger & sadness within me

this hard seed of hurt

is deeply rooted, rimming

brimming my wildflowers to rot


i risk it all out in the canvas

altar of regrets

dry rust of barren earth

prickled words wombed from streets-

f__k this stupid shit!


the bloom of my skin turn

to knots

to twisted violet

until the violent wind dies within me

pale & half-apologetic


this mirror of myself

a burnt pendant moon

a wintered darkness

i own it, 

& learn to live with it



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Taking a Risk by guest Host, Tricia Sankey.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your comments.


Thursday, June 3, 2021

Keeper of keeps


settle me, leafy & limber as grape vines

upon pillows of leaves, a symmetry of green


i breath in your cool breath, light, green

on greening maple and oak trees, sky


clocks the long hours of daylight

rosy long hours of sunlight


in your greenness, i taste salt

of earth, & summer sun salting 


my skin to brown, to flowering blooms, to pierce

my heart as a pear tree of flowering blooms, so fierce


for what am i without you

empty greenhouse, without you, greening


me with a thread of fire, greening

with threads of fire



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  To turn again, about turn again.   This challenge about epiphora, is hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.   Playing with repetition to drive home the theme & message.


Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.


Tuesday, June 1, 2021

The mangoes of our lives

 

on my palm, you are sun

goddess made by the tropical

gods in their dreams


i cut you

across your seed

lengthwise

as your yellowing juice

drips & tinges

my fingertips of heavenly

sweetness


some would even

cut your flesh into little squares

to be spooned into

desserts light & creamy as clouds


but by the streets & shores

of hardy farmers, fishermen & tradesmen

we holler for you

salivating over


your hard green

skin of unripeness

a tartness to rouse our tongues

to firehouse

of bitter-sour flavor

the earth has pickled in your seed

either freshly picked

or mixed with diced tomatoes,

onions, chiles and

shrimp paste sauce,

a side dish

for grilled fish and fried meats


under cool shades

of coconut trees,

your greenness gives us

roots

salt of our skin

browning under the burning sun





Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - How to cut a pomegrante, hosted by Kim M. Russell.  Join us for a fruity prompt when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.

Monday, May 31, 2021

this poem

 

has lost count

of wilting lilacs leis

& awry summer spells


has curious eyes

for rust peeled colors

beneath glossy covers


has locksmith hands

on old clock 

while you


between teacup

stirrings & musings


wait for a phrase 

to cleave you         right

        as        light



 
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #129, A Curiosity of Poems, hosted by De Jackson.   This is a 44 word post with the given word - curiosity.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thank you for the visit.

Tuesday, May 25, 2021

house of green

 

i dance to your sun-

light of green & shamrock


a speckle of butterfly wings

a rustle from birds & chipmunks 


wildflowers of pale pink & blue

forget-me-nots swish to breeze


above, the maple and oak trees

tower & stretch their young limbs


the forest is tended by sky, clouds,

wind & rich soil teeming by small creatures


busy bees are hard at work

here is soft bed of fern & moss 


here is beating pulse of red 

berries, here is musk from damp soil


it is a full house

there is no place like home*


*"There's no place like home"  - Wizard of Oz, 1939 

Watch the video of Riverwood from my Instagram


Posted for dVerse poets Pub - hosted by Mish. I chose this line from the list of movie quotes.   For the long weekend, we went hiking and breathing in nature.  Have a good week.

Thursday, May 20, 2021

Waltz

 

Scribble a summer day

Lilacs scents in the air

Birdsongs fill morning steps

Serene blue is the sky


Paint me a carefree noon

Blue iris blooming joys

As children's red balloons

Buckle kites, straying toys


Compose an evening tune

Setting sun on my tea

The rising flower moon

Pink star we hope to see



Lilacs



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.   I tried to waltz in my poem.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

Monday, May 17, 2021

watch

 

he walks with his wounds

underneath his jacket, protesting

words on placard, his voice

a war song in the streets


above the din, old tower bell 

chimes 

clock wound tight

as wings of departing birds 

echo

tides of moon


i keep a storm watch



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by Lillian.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word - Wound.  Thanks for the comments & visits.

Thursday, May 6, 2021

Spring of contradictions

 

I.   spring is a simple

     daisy 

     or dandelion or daffodil

     tulips rising slender 

     wonders & joys

     easy and sweet as magnolias

     mysterious as cherry blooms

     i smell life

     vibrant as cardinals & blue birds

     hopping & pecking on grass for worms-

     beautiful & red earth you are

     enough for me

     


II.  a white flower bud,

     wrinkled & bent as green grass abounds-

     a tree shrub, still bare

     limbs & not one leaf sprouting on its

     arms shiver in the cold wind-

     amidst shadbush & thriving red maple trees,

     one baby bird 

     falls off the nest,

     waits & shivers into emptiness

     i was wrong,

     spring is as complicated

     as spring snow, dooming

     what little life there is

     to ice & stone

     merciless or merciful, what

     is your purpose?

     i cannot decide

     

     


                                                         

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:   Palinode.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  A palinode is a poem in which the poet retracts a view or sentiment expressed in a former poem.


Tuesday, May 4, 2021

Moontide

 

I thought him first a ferryman, but I was wrong.

He wore the night as one walks with a cane.  

Slipping on an ancient body, he was an old 

hand to assist you in your crossings.


Next, I thought of him a sentinel & maybe I

am right.   He watches the night closely as I count

time striking at midnight before the new year.   His

black suit scarcely moving in the wind.   His eyes

an orb of midnight oil, brooding as crows


Casting shadows in this street in middle

of the town square.  I first ran into him,

waving my passport, asking him where was Kipling

station.  He pointed it to me in the map & even

gave me tips to reach the airport.   I thanked him

as if he was a locksmith.   He brushed it off, saying

the city can be a puzzle

if you don't know north & south, east & west

in his grave watchman's voice.


That's me, confused as a lost cloud

With a ring of copper keys on my hand.

He said, a bunch of keys confused him.   He prefers

one fishing line & hook.


I was getting on my way when another man

approached him for help on directions.

He said that I am not a wand maker but I can show

you where to fish, where the water pulls, how to reel 

in a catch  


It now occured to me what he really was.

He is a tide maker.

He listens to the currents & shapes the tides.

He catches the moon and puts it

inside the street lamp.

And he holds the one silver key to close & open it


To whoever knocks at his door

and ask him 

Please, give me back my secrets.


Fictional character's voice inspired by the digital collage of Catrin Welz-Stein here.


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Exploring the Narrative Voice, with guest host, Ingrid. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.


Thursday, April 29, 2021

mo(u)rning tea/ anniversary

 

before the birds sing

& yellow daffodils unfurl


pour yourself a teacup of mint & jasmine

& write your story of regrets on the pages 


of notebook:  line by line

the words appear waiting      as if motionless


the verses turn wanting        as if suspended

you know all of them, lingering at edge of light 


beautifully absent

but you have learned something by now


you have not mourned them   

you burned your bridges



Posted for dVerse OpenLink Night,hosted by Mish.   Inspired by Tuesday's Poetics prompt on bridges.  Thanks for the visit.

Tuesday, April 27, 2021

Bridge between moon & sky

 

come dusk, you stitch your broken-

ness with words frayed as blue butterfly

caught in canvas.  you paint walls

out of lines, gaze at silence 

brooding as crows perched on lines. you

watch the moon strip the darkness, 


~shadows flee & light~


spills on your face, the sky

glitters with starlit trees & blooms

buzz at your ears as busy bees 

on spring day.  come dawn, birdsongs 

swell and the marvel of all: you

sun-dewed, yellow-daisied & carefree



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics hosted by Merril Smith - Bridge poem using the puente poetry form.  Thanks for the visit.

Monday, April 19, 2021

slow dance

 


the grating shrills, honks 

of geese & gulls

do not bother me


the mercurial weather

of sudden rain & bright sun

do not despair me


i can wait

for marvel of fresh daffodils

& lazy unfurling 


of cherry

blooms, time of slow

spring dance






Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, Hosted by De Jackson.  The word is BOTHER in this 44 word post.   Thanks for the visit.


Thursday, April 8, 2021

this scar on my left knee


is a pink flower petal

faded & crumpled origami 


a time-stamped map

my school girl's body turning to jump 


out from a van

as if i have wings


instead of coltish legs & black 

polished shoes


the door swinging back

its pointed edge, dull rusty blade on my skin


my eyes, once carefree & blind

suddenly became cautious 


of leaping & falling 

blind as maple leaf during autumn


(how i admire the faith of baby birds) 

i had other scars since then 


but you never forget the first time

you see your flesh, not a wrapped & bound book


but a living tissue, popping fat & pulsing 

red blood & bones, tiny veins


fragile as roots 

of a spring bulb



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub:  MTB, The Body & Poetry - where I am hosting about writing a body part/s as part of my history.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  


Tuesday, April 6, 2021

{happiness}


i pluck happiness

from a pot of soil

it was wet from April rain

dazzling as first cherry bloom


i wash its

plumb leaves gently & encased it in glass

an ivory in perfect repose & sunshine 

muffling all the sadness in the rooms

but in the coming days


it was a dying 

flower shedding its petals

blackening roots

shrinking

losing its colors, spice & flavor


quietly, it begged to be released

as a monarch butterfly

as a wild bird

uncaged, unfiltered, unmarked


over the back yard

& out into the sky

i toss it like a ball

of dragon fire

hissing above the pine trees


{i heard laughter}



In response to my original post:    {sadness}

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Flipping Meanings.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.


Tuesday, March 30, 2021

Spin cycle: Spring

 

I fluff & fold away

winter blankets & thick socks

And put to wash my clothes 

on cold water spin cycle


The sun spreads marmalade 

hues on garden of budding greens

On the clotheslines

I hang 

flowering apostrophes & metaphors

and pin the conjugated verbs

with brown clips 


I flick away

the dewdrops of commas

stuck on my shirts

& shake out the dirt 

of hypenated syllabic words

hiding in my coat pockets


Later on, I will

pluck them & toss them all in the

laundry basket

unsorted & missing pairs & sun wrinkled

smell of maple syrup 

in the spring air



Posted for dVerse Poets pub- Poetics - Put Your Words in a Spin cycle - Hosted by De Jackson.


Tuesday, March 23, 2021

A Painter Without A Brush

 

the brush is a mongrel moon

a sop of soap stone, lump of foolish

grains in my hands, grey from winter


my fingertips are callous

unfeeling of any rhythm on canvas

i am slumbering shadow of dust


among the fine selections of books in garden

the sun brings a jingle of spring's eyes

as bouquet of wildflowers for the first


time & i am enamored with torrential clouds

of hues, shapes & hollows & tangent of words, whorls

of verses, as if famished, i drink it slowly


colors infuse & thrum, sharp as limes & lemons

my lips are basted by magenta & saffron spice

uncorked, honeycomb drips unabashed on ground


bees alight in morning blush of dewdrop

as if i am apricot tulip, budding rosy 

a new day, i 

am



Title from:  A Painter Without a Brush (Gerhard Richter)


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -  Poetics:  The Poet as Painter,  Hosted by Laura Bloomsbury.   Please join us for a wonderful prompt at 3pm EST.

Thursday, March 11, 2021

rush of sunshine

 

when midnight strikes, i'm a thief

swallowing pale moon

penning words, as wintered trees

reveal bones - hush - soon.

sunshine lingers, love

etches a spell, rush of gold

i await - spring's dove



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry form:  Sequidilla.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit.

Seguidilla has seven syllable-counted lines (7,5,7,5:5,7,5), and rhymes the second and fourth, and the fifth and seventh lines (x,A,x,A,B,x,B)

Thursday, February 11, 2021

this winter morning (when it is -9 C)

 

the house is a tinder-

box of memories


windows overlook small garden

of papaya trees & bougainvilleas

so pink as delicate buds


our room of mint green curtains

is now empty of furnitures


a place of light & laughter

a world sieved in tropical colors


i smell sugar coated 

yams, rice-wrapped delicacies, 

unmistakable coconut palm breeze


wafting air

of celebratory spirit,

despite the tinge of sadness


our luggages all packed up

with boxes filled with 15 summer beach joys

& windswept photo albums

& sun dried clothes

& sugar cane fields


i take with me

this snapshot of my life -

& leave


the car 

& house keys

my purse bursting of anxious

gratefulness for tomorrow



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar - Setting (Time and Place).  Thanks for joining in.


Thursday, January 14, 2021

Waltzing at night

 

this notebook is a bear

-hug I need

warm as fuzzy blanket

on winter night


my pen stirs the soup

of longing sun

of butterfly wishes

of spring seeds & peppermint sky


and i am there

with you


each page, smooth

spoonful of sugar custard


each chapter, drum

-beat of heady blues & wine


i fold its hands

cupped with sangria flowers

of my secrets



Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:   Personification and Imagery.  Use any or both of these poetic devices in your poem.

Please joing us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. 



Tuesday, January 5, 2021

{sadness}


 i left sadness as a half-peeled onion

on a platter

it saw no sunshine

but to my surprise, it grew

speckled leaves

the color of my eyes &

roots, the shape of my feet


i planted it in pot of soil

nurtured by winter cold symphony

& northern darkness

no petals grew

nor sweet fruits of long summer days


instead its roots spread

warming my blood

as spice, flavor, fire

in my belly

it became part of my body

watercolors my hours

& underlines my little joys


whistling with sigh & shiver 

hush of pine trees



Inspired by my Photo of the Growing Half-Peeled Onion

"Color arrives,
sometimes when
you least expect it."  
Inspired from post from Brain Pickings 

Inspired Poem by W. S. Mervin


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - A Conversation, hosted by Sarah Connor.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.